The Walk of Redemption
by onceuponatime142
Summary: It isn't only Brienne that takes Jaime to Kingslanding a Stark accompanies him as well. Josephine Stark is the 2nd eldest Stark and an adept player. Will she aid Jaime's redemption and will he allow it?
1. Chapter 1

Josephine sat by the side of her brother looking over the map of Westeros. Robb was purposely talking quietly to the Karstark beside him. They had come back from battle a few hours ago with a prize - Jaime Lannister. Robb had bested him on the field and was now talking about what to do. They had tied him to a post in the middle of the camp. Robb had said it was to ensure nobody could steal himself away in the night but Josephine knew it was also to humiliate him. Robb, although he wouldn't admit it, was incredibly happy with his victory. His bannermen was ecstatic with the victory more than anything else. It was the first time, Josephine felt, that everyone thought they would win the war. Josephine was happy as well but nervous.

As they travelled further south they needed more alliances. The Freys were lucky; they were first in and snagged the King and Arya. They had gained Olyvar from the Freys who was proving surprisingly competent at his job and Robb seemed to like the man. However, she was the next best thing for the next lord. Every castle they passed Josephine wondered wherever she would be left there with a husband or not. She was convinced Robb would tell her beforehand if he had to and that both he and her mother would be resistant to anything below her stature. They were likely hoping one of her former proposed suitors would offer her hand again.

Back in Winterfell, when the world was a different place, there was talk about sending her South either to Dorne or to the Reach. She had been cautious about this as had her father and had only ever wrote one letter to each suitor feigning friendship while her father negotiated on her behalf. Normally she would be annoyed by her father acting so much on her behalf without consulting her but she allowed it. At the time it was because she was having a reoccuring dream of a castle by the sea. In the dream she felt happiness bloom in her stomach as she sat on the sand letting rays of sunlight hit her. When she had told Sansa she was reassured this was her future and she would be happy.

Her heart was flushed with cold water and ached. She couldn't think about any of that. Her father was dead. Sansa was trapped. Arya was trapped. She had to do something.

"When are you going to visit Jaime?" She finally asked.

She could not sit idly. She was allowed in Robb's war room as a figure of authority. She had negotiated with the Freys and several other river lords. She had kept the Boltons by their side as they ventured further was somewhat politically savvy and Robb trusted her. She hadn't been there when Jaime had arrived instead answering letters on Robb's behalf.

"Late tonight or perhaps tomorrow night. I need to look strong."

"He cannot be treated too badly, Robb, if we are to gain any use than him he has to return whole. No torture, no pain, no parts missing."

Robb finally turned to face her, a little anger flashing through his eyes, "What are you proposing? Special treatment?"

"Princess, his family have caused this whole war! We cannot treat him better than the soldiers that fight for us," the Karstark shook his head several times.

Josephine stood up, "I did not suggest that. He can get one meal a day but he will get that meal every day. He can stay tied to that post but he will only get treated by our healers and he will be permitted to wash in the river once a week. He is Tywin's heir. Tywin shares no love with him otherwise."

Robb shared a glance with the Karstark as if wondering which of them could think of a response.

"He won't be going to the river. A bucket of water can be delivered. And he can have a meal once the soldiers have been fed."

She rolled her eyes, "You are acting as if I am on his side and not yours, brother."

He smiled a bit at that, "Karstark see he gets visited by healers tonight. I do not wish for him to die due to wounds."

Karstark bowed and left quickly leaving them in the tent. Finally Josephine hugged her brother, barreling into him with a force. Her face hit the metal breastplate perhaps too hard and mud smudged agaisnt her. This was the first moment alone since he had arrived. He stank of blood, mud, and sweat. Tears pooled in her eyes.

Nobody sang about this part, not truthfully. In the songs the knights always returned unscathed and happy. Their sisters and wives and lovers beared nothing but happiness towards their knight. Despite Robb being back she still felt dread in her stomach. He would be gone again soon.

"Take your time with Jaime. We have an advantage here," She whispered conveying her plea for him not to leave as if it was a tactic.

"I will do as advised."

No promise was made as it always was with Robb since he became King. She pulled back but he held onto her arms, keeping each other close. His eyes were enveloped in sadness. She shook her head as if it could shake off the feelings she had.

"Your lords are terrible at politics. I fear it is a northern vice they have been little help in managing affairs out of the field. It is a shock they managed to name you King."

Robb laughed his chest shaking slightly, "I believe you have always known that. How is mother?"

"Not much help either. I fear she doesn't know this is a war. She seems to believe that we should have stayed quiet in Winterfell."

Robb''s laugh stopped and Josephine regretted her words slightly.

"I was thinking of sending her back."

"It may be best. Although I think she worries about missing my wedding."

Robb now let go of her and looked over the table.

"You will not get married for war. You advice is valuable."

"And there is nobody that we need that much south, not unless we meet another so-called King," she nudged him in the ribs.

He looked uncomfortable with the prospect, "I do not think you need to be married at all. Ever."

She giggled, "As all older brothers believe. If there is reason for me to marry to ensure your future, brother, I promise I will do my duty."

He looked at her through the sides of his eyes. Robb had underestimated her. She was thriving with the politics. She used to be a giddy girl who enjoyed riding and listening to bard songs about princes and princesses. Sansa and her had never spent a day apart. The only difference between the two was physical. And perhaps Josephine had been close to Jon and himself as well. She was the better rider and would often boast as such. In the year before this began she had broken in her own mare - a golden haired horse - and was the first to train her direwolf fully.

Winter was a seemingly docile direwolf compared to Grey Wind. He was taller but also skinnier. Although some confused the two due to their near identical coats. But Winter was paler than Grey Wind by a few shades. Josephine had giggled with Theon and Jon about the name of her direwolf. Robb remembered those days fondly perhaps happier remembering them than he actually was at the time.

He used to find her ease around everyone annoying, feeling her ease meant he needed to be on guard. She would laugh hysterically at the dumbest jokes which, predictably, drew every man towards her to gain a boost to their ego. When the King - the old King - had visited she was by Tyrion's side as if shackled there. Robb cared little until he saw the Kingslayer by her side as well on the rare occasion. Her laughs had been far and few between since this started.

He did not want her to marry. He, at the very least, could ensure her happiness.

"I know," he held her hands, "I think you should talk to the Kingslayer. I do not want our usual integrators used on him, you may be able to find how Sansa and Arya are."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, "Thank you," she kissed him on the cheek before making her way out.

Winter rose from under the table and followed his liege. Josephine had tears in her eyes for some unknown reason. Her emotions were overwhelming her. She needed a bath and perhaps she would visit a campfire and find someone singing a tail of some sort of fantasy.

However, first her eyes met Jaime Lannister. He was leaning agaisnt a post, his hair caked in mud, a cut on his forehead, and a smirk on his face. His blue eyes were trained on her.

How did he appear as if he was still in control? Her heartbeat quickened. She had known Jaime. Not as a friend but she had laughed by his side. She was foolish, her own mind remind herself, she grew attached the everyone she spoke to. But she was raised to be a fool - as Old Nan would say - and was nothing but a summer child.

Jaime, she deduced, looked slightly surprised at her leaving the tent or maybe that she was staring back from her rooted spot. She took a few steps towards him until she was seven short paces from him. Neither spoke. His smirk widened slightly.

"My lady," He nodded his head in an attempt of an exaggerated bow, "Do you want to sit on my lap and let me tell you stories like the last time we met?"

She shook her head first for few seconds, not having the will to speak, "I… I never did that."

What a weak thing to say! Gods she was one of her brothers closest advisors! She was meant to be skilled in the game of politics and words! She knew none of this pressure was given by the men around her. They all expected Lord Bolton to be in charge on writing letters to their enemies and potential alliances. They were all shocked when she was given such task and likely expecting her to fail.

His smirk continued however, "No, you are right, you didn't. But I could never refuse if you asked."

Again her head shook before words came out, "Are they alive?"

His eyes softened slightly but only for a millisecond.

"Yes."

"Did you know my father has been executed in response to your capture?"

Jaime tried to hide his shock, "No. Rather foolish of them to do so."

She nearly smiled, how odd to be discussing such things with this man, "Indeed. This war won't end without more blood spilt."

"Hopefully not mine."

"I want you to know that I tried to protect Tyrion. I had sent sellswords to discreetly watch over him if they were to cross paths. I, uh," she looked away not being able to look in his eyes, "I am sorry for what happened."

Jaime laughed but she did not know at what, "Is this meant to make me trust you? Is this meant to make me think that we are friends and not at war? I would have killed your brother, my dearest, I would have slain him."

She looked shocked and Jaime was pleased by the fact. Her eyebrows creased hard, straining the porcelain skin of her forehead. Her formerly smooth plump lips pursed tightly. Jaime wanted to laugh again. She looked like a toddler about to throw a tantrum.

"You should be careful of saying that. I seem to be the only one insisting you survive this imprisonment. You are surrounded by people who detest you and have little qualms in you dying by their hand. The Boltons wanted to cut off your fingers and send them as warning."

He merely rolled his eyes, "The Boltons are cruel people. I trust your honourable brother would do no such thing."

She smirked back and crossed her arms, "He is not my father. Robb is a King. He ha

s little patience for Lannisters or this war." Jaime opened his mouth but was interrupted by two short men rushing up to her.

"Princess," they bowed and Jaime smirked at the title.

She looked like a princess as they were described in songs of the legends. Her long brown hair curled around her enticing men to follow the tendrils to the rest of her body. Jaime had ignored her when arriving at Winterfell as soon as Robert had walked to her first before anyone else. Jaime had known what would happen as they heard rumours the closer they got to Winterfell. Josephine resembled Lyanna almost perfectly. Jaime had attempted to warn Cersei but hadn't managed to. Robert had stared at the girl for a while before Eddard spoke up. Her eyes were muddy sinkholes that caused men to get stuck in them agaisnt their will. Her skin was unblemished.

Her figure had been hidden on the first day. Jaime and Tyrion had darkly joked this was Eddard's way of protecting his daughter from the King. Although on the second day she was wearing something more akin to her age. Jaime could still remember the dress although he assured himself he only remembered it because Cersei had ranted about it for months after. The blue dress wrapped around her body deliciously showing the few freckles on her back. The skirt glided into shades of gold with patterns on her bodice. Jaime had be next to Robert when she entered the room.

Robert had, at the moment, began insisting that she travel down to the Capitol. Cersei mentioned Joffrey but Robert had brushed the proposal of Joffrey marrying her off. That had settled the atmosphere darkly. Eddard had ignored it. Robert had only danced with her once for a short while before his namesake cut in. Jaime had attempted to whisk Cersei away but she had refused. He had been upset that night, he could dimly remember. Cersei almost seemed jealous of the girl which had enfuritated Jaime. Cersei had never cared much about Robert and his ventures into flea bottom but now she was watching her husband intenly.

That was when Jaime went to talk to her as she sat by Tyrion. She had laughed at his dry wit and giggled at Tyrion's stories. Jaime could remember, briefly, Cersei's fury. Cersei insisting that her laughing and giggling was all fake. Cersei ranting how she was trying to steal the attention. Cersei asking what he thought of her. Jaime had replied honestly. He did not think she was prettier. They had fucked that night several times.

When he met Tyrion the next day, his brother had made a comment about Jaime and the girl. Tyrion always did such thing after Jaime spent a lot of time with Cersei often making Jaime wonder if he knew. Tyrion was on his way to visit her in the weirwood and made a comment about how the best feature of a woman was her ability to make a man feel like he had wit. Jaime had attempted to ignore the comment - Cersei was the smart one out of the twins.

He finally tuned into the conversation.

"Don't call him that," her voice was sharper than he was ready for.

"Sorry Princess," the fatter man bowed and eyed Jaime.

"It is Ser Jaime Lannister. He is a member of the Kingsguard and our ward. Calling him a Kingslayer sounds like we are condemning Robb does it not?" She tilted her head and Jaime almost laughed.

"Yes Princess," the other one nodded.

"He has cuts to his head but I believe nowhere else. Wash and make sure they are not infected. You can do it out here. I do not expect to see shoddy work from our best."

"Thank you for allowing me to keep my pretty face, Princess," Jaime interrupted smirking up at her.

She looked down at him and her cheeks brightened slightly, "If I could sew up your mouth I would."

"Most women think that is the best part."

Her cheeks now flushed with colour instantly. She just nodded at the healers and scattered away, stumbling a little at first. Jaime let the two men inspect him quickly. His mind on Cersei and her blue perfect eyes. His mind on Cersei and his fear of what would become of her. His mind knowing that Joffrey was King. His mind knowing that Cersei was now in power. He felt a chill glide down his spine but chose to ignore whatever that meant. His eyes instead stared at the mud even when they were closed all he saw was the mud around him.


	2. Chapter 2

Josephine woke that day aiming to pretend her father was not dead. She could pretend this war business was some sort of game. A handmaiden rushed in and dressed her and Olyvar waited by her tent. He had quickly fallen into a routine visiting her before her brother. He held a stack of letters - all that had come in the night.

"Olyvar, come in," she beckoned the nervous boy, "Have you sorted the letters like I said?"

Olyvar obeyed, "Yes, in order of importance. You have a letter from King Renly."

"Renly?" she frowned a little, "And Stannis?"

"A report from one of our spies but not of Stannis."

"Robb does not care much for Renly but perhaps I could convince him. Did Robb visit Jaime last night?"

Olyvar shifted slightly, "Your mother did."

She now stood up and made her way out of her tent, "Leave them there and go attend to your King. Ask if he is willing to spend lunch with me."

"Yes," he bowed before adding, "my Princess."

She did not appreciate the title but began walking towards Jaime. She was lucky, she supposed, that most people knew her position with Robb that few rumours would fly. She made her way to his post and eyed the two guards this time. She would have to double check who was stationed as a guard. They would need to be cool headed to survive Jaime or, maybe, shouldn't be so close.

Jaime spotted her quickly, "Have you come to visit me, my darling? I would much prefer you to tend to my wounds than the men you sent."

She looked at the gash on the side of his face, "My mother visited you."

He answered despite it not being a question, "She did. If you are half as lively as her I can see us enjoying each other very much."

"I cannot," she pursed her lips again, "You are about to live time in solitude, Ser, I would recommend being more jovial the next time you speak to anyone."

"I won't be in here long, I promise you that."

She huffed and folded her arms, "I came to check she hadn't left to much damage."

Winter came and nestled against her leg starring at Jaime. His muscles tightened and his jaw set in a hard line. She hadn't seen him like this ever. His eyes were trained on Winter as if she would set the direwolf upon him at any second.

"What do you think is the most painful way to die, Ser?"

His eyes didn't move, "Burning, probably."

Winter did not move closer to Jaime but stared back, "The men on the battlefield tell me that Winter here is a fierce warrior. Did you see him?"

"Yes."

She hadn't meant to threaten him. But here she was, his demeanour just infuriating her. She lets her arms hugs herself and stared down at Winter instead of him. Why did she feel guilty? Jaime was not a bad person, she was sure of it, so why would she threaten him?

"Winter," She called sharply and the direwolf looked up at her instead of him, "Home."

The direwolf trotted off back to her tent, leaving her and Jaime together. His muscles instantly relaxed and he rolled his joints to evaporate the tension. Jaime's eyes went back to Josephine in front of him. He was almost surprised by the glint of guilt in her expression. She wasn't made for this. Jaime saw her, more easily, as a lady of a castle. She did not seem regal or in command as his sister was but she seemed as if she would only be safe with ten guards surrounding her and far away from this dreadful war. Why had the boy taken her this far south? She should be in Winterfell, surrounded by guards and stone walls. Jaime was on the brink of actually being annoyed.

He sighed, "Did they send you here because the thought a pretty woman would make me spill my secrets?"

Her guilt vanished immediately and she pursed her lips and frowned in that charming way children do when angry, "I am my brothers closest advisor. I have written on his behalf to your own father, to the crown, to every notable lord in the seven kingdoms by now! And I was the one that informed Tywin of your capture."

He rolled his eyes. Tyrion would make some joke about this when he told him. Every pretty woman in his life was power hungry. Maybe Josephine and Cersei were more similar in personality than he thought originally. Cersei's rambling could have been right - maybe she only laughed with Tyrion and him to gain some sort of power. It had worked, at least an inch, because he had felt bad for her.

He would need to correct that. He would ensure that he corrected that.

But when he looked at her again she looked more sad than angry. She was waiting for a response and her chest was moving too rapidly. Clearly, the outburst was a long time coming.

"Then I hope you negotiate my release soon, I would hate for you to be on the wrong side of this war."

Now sadness enveloped her small frame and she looked away from Jaime, "It won't ever be the same. Even for you, Ser."

"What will change for me?" He chuckled.

"Are you not aware?" Again that pitying glance was directed at him, nearly infuriating him.

"Stannis claims he received a letter from my father. Explaining that you are the father of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen."

He was quiet for a few seconds, "Are you asking me if it is true?"

She just shook her head and looked down. She was gaining ground but it made her feel guilty and horrible. She was deceiving Jaime - or attempting to - and could hear her father's disappointment.

"No."

"Do you picture me as a gallant knight in your fantasies, my lady? Do you imagine me honourable and kind? Do you think I'll give you roses and please you in my bed? Whatever misconceptions you have about me you need to forget. I am a kingslayer, Josephine, I will add another king to my title if I could."

She looked affronted, which oddly displeased him. Jaime had expected pride to well up in his stomach at her half fear half disgust expression but it did not instead something else grew in the pits.

Josephine could not remember the last time she had wanted to hit a man. She acted as a lady and prided herself on the fact. She had already been foolish with Jaime, letting her emotions get the better of her. But it would not happen again. She needed to be brave. She needed to be like Robb. She needed to be like her father.

She hated that she felt scared or sad. She was sleeping in a tent with Winter and Robb close by. A whole army of loyal men surrounded her but she still cried at night out of despair. Her sisters were in King's Landing. No loyal men surrounded them. Only a cruel queen and who knows what her children were like! Josephine had taken to praying every night that Sansa's blood would not come so she would not be forced to marry. She did not normally pray and had no idea of who to pray to. The weirwood trees offered her no comfort but neither did the seven gods. It all felt cruel.

She looked at Jaime. At least she wasn't captured.

"I do not believe you like that title. My father hated you because of what you did to the Mad King. But I find it hard to believe you are as horrible as you or anyone else says, Ser," She took a few paces forward and the guards grabbed the hilts of their sword, "I believe that you are simply fighting on the opposite side to me."

She bent down slightly reaching out with a quivering hand. With a pad of her thumb, she wiped the fresh blood from his forehead. He didn't move as if the direwolf was back again but stared up at her. Josephine didn't meet his eye line instead of looking intently at the cut as if she could do anything to help it. She smiled looked down at him and didn't know what she felt. Guilt? Sadness?

He was a real-life embodiment of this war. While she was in the camp she could act like it was an expedition. Like they were travelling to the capitol for a different reason. Josephine didn't pretend like the war didn't exist all the time. She answered letters, movies her spies around, and advised Robb. But when she wasn't doing that she'd act the same as she did at Winterfell. She would find a bard and close her eyes as they sang or cracked lame jokes.

But now Jaime was here. Everyone spoke about him and she seemed to have to act as his protector every waking hour. She hated it, she hated him.

She returned back and took a step away, "I will ensure you receive no more visitors."

Jaime tried to say something back. But she had walked away too quickly. Sure, he had time to speak when she was touching him but he couldn't. All he thought was Cersei.

He had been cut during sword training against his arm. He had been proud of it and boasted it was the first of many battle scars. He hadn't even washed the oozing wound, which was the length of his finger, as he bounded into the gardens in Casterly Rock. His smile took over his face hurting his lips that were stretched. He first saw Tyrion, he waved his hand enthusiastically. Stopping he tugged up his shirt and smudged the blood and waved now with a slightly bloody hand. Tyrion had laughed loudly and attempted to walk towards him but was reigned in my a nursemaid. Jaime didn't head towards Tyrion but ventured further into the rose gardens.

She was standing as if she was aware he was watching her. Her back was turned and she was inspecting the rose bushes, her long fingers brushing against each petal. The pink dress she wore flew across her gently like a whisper in the breeze. That was when Jaime had stopped in his tracks and watched his twin. He could not remember when he first started believing she was beautiful; he couldn't remember when he first realised he loved her. She had simply told him one day and he knew it was true.

She turned around when he called her name. She was ready to chide him for shouting before her eyes went to his bloody fingers and bicep. He bounded to her like a puppy.

"What is that?" she sneered backing up almost into the bushes.

His smile had dropped.

"My first scar. Uncle Kevan believes it will scar well. He says a true warrior is scattered in scars."

She turned her nose upwards, managing to look down at him despite their similar heights, "If I was a warrior I would not bare on a single scar. I would never allow myself to lose."

He huffed and crossed his arms over himself, "I didn't lose! What do you know about fighting?"

"I don't know anything," she practically growled, "I do know that you seem to want to marry your skin like a ridiculous knight. You will not gain a woman of stature with scars across you. It would be hideous!"

He wanted to hit her.

"So am I hideous to you now?"

She sniffed, "You are the closest thing to me. You just seem to make it clear you are lower than me. Go, I want to be alone now."

He had left her. Fury building inside of him he stormed back to the training grounds. He had rationalised her behaviour as she was upset over Rhaegar being married off and not to her. But that thought had caused more fury within him.

Within a few months, he left for King's Landing to join the Knights' Guard under the Mad King's request. He hadn't looked back. He spent his last months in Casterly Rock by Tyrion's side. He wouldn't see Cersei until her marriage to Robb. She had forgotten her words, he believed, and he thought he had as well.

Jaime returned to reality and started at the direction where Josephine had come and gone. He couldn't remember how long she had been gone for. He looked into the mud, again, and found it comforting as opposed to dirty.

Josephine had visited her mother. She had gone to chide her over what she did with Jaime but as soon as she saw her she collapsed in her arms. Josephine wept then. The first time she had done so in front of another person since this war started. Her mother held her tightly to hide Josephine from her own tears.

"I can't remember the last thing I said to him," she wept into her shoulder.

They had fallen together on the floor with Catelyn not being able to support them both. She was being cradled if she was a babe. Catelyn started forward, the cogs in her brain slowly churning as she comforted her child. She had made her decision. She kissed Josephine's oak coloured hair and let her daughter's scent overcome her. Lavender and gooseberries were her favourite scent. She took in her smell as if it would be the last time.

"Robb wishes me to travel back to Winterfell. Bran and Rickon need me."

Josephine looked up and tried not to beg her mother to stay, "They do."

"I will be riding north when the sun rises, Josie, I want you to come with me."

Josie shook her head, "I cannot, you know that."

"War isn't a place for a young child," Catelyn played with her daughter's long hair.

"I am not young, mother, Robb needs me."

Catelyn sighed, taking in her daughter's scent. She couldn't bear travelling away from Robb and Josephine. She felt like she was travelling away from Sansa and Arya as well. At the moment she felt safest where she was in her home. Winterfell had never been hers. Winterfell had been her husbands and she could not bear to revisit such place. She had been following Robb around like a shadow since his death. Robb reminded her nothing of Ned. Robb was all her, all over. Josephine, on the other hand, was Ned's child. Ned had dominated her hair and her stature. She was not tall and graceful as her mother but shorter and presented herself as a woman for all to see. Catelyn hated to admit it but she was avoiding Josephine.

But Robb was getting angry. She did not want him to push her away. She felt in her bones that he would die and she did not want to see it occur. She could banish away Ned barely. She would crumble if he eldest died. So she was going to Winterfell.

"I know, my darling," Catelyn soothed.

Josephine shivered remembering Jaime for a second. She was annoyed he would invade a personal moment. Two short conversations were clearly too much for her. She would not see him for the rest of the week.

"You have to be strong, Josie. Stark women are strong. Tully women remember their words to their grave."

"Family, duty honour," Josephine repeated feeling strength seep into her bones.

"Family, duty, honour. In that order, Josephine, always in that order."

Josephine allowed herself to be hugged once more before kissing her mother on the cheek. She wanted to write a letter to Bran and Rickon. She had been conversing with them both since this started but now wanted to send them a gift as well. Maybe a flower from the riverbed to show how far south she was? She would have to think, she was much better thinking of gifts to send to Sansa.

She began walking back to Robb's tent. This time she ignored Jaime but felt his eyes on her the entire time. She didn't falter in her walk like their last meeting.

Robb was surrounded by more men this time clearly in talks about the next battle or something that did not concern her. Robb took advantage of the mornings when Josephine was answering letters to talk about the more gruesome parts of the war. When she entered the men stood up from their chairs and bowed to her. She smiled and waved them down, standing opposite her brother.

"I want permission to move my spies further into the royal court."

Robb's eyes remained hard, "Is that necessary? It seems pointless to watch the Boy King when he makes no commands."

"The capitol is no use to us, my lady, we should focus on Stannis and Tywin," one of his men added.

"Jaime is mine to interrogate, I need information from the capitol. We also need to watch Sansa and Arya if Tywin moves them from the capital we need to know immediately rather when he tells us."

None of the men talked for a second, "How do you propose sending spies into the court?"

She smiled, victorious, "I could replace a few servants. I want them to be in the raven tower, intercepting letters from the castles handmaidens. They gossip too loosely with their families back home."

Robb looked to his other advisors before sighing, "And how many would you move?"

"Five. One from Winterfell, two from Dragonstone, one from Casterly Rock, and one from the Reach."

"Do we have that to spare?"

She resisted rolling her eyes, "Yes. I believe it would be valuable. If no news is received within four weeks they can move back."

Robb rubbed his neck and looked over his advisors again. The men were silent, having not much to offer in the talk of spies and information. He waved his hand at her before resting them back on the table.

"Sister, what is the latest news on Tywin's army."

She smiled and now sat down opposite him, "Not much has changed. The Mountain is burning the Riverlands leagues from us. Almost certainly trying to avoid us but do the most damage possible. Tywin has not withdrawn but according to my spies has called for more food. There seem to be people from the Vale may be fighting with them. I do not know which house and there seem to be no extra banners so I presume a militia from a nearby village surrendered to them."

"Traitors," Theon spoke up shaking his head, "They have betrayed their liege lord."

She didn't look at Theon before her response blurted out, "Do you expect a militia of untrained men and boys to fight the Mountain or Tywin's arm themselves? Most of them likely do not know how to hold a sword, they will likely just as surrender back in battle."

"My lady," Lord Bolton added, "They are still traitors, there is no acceptable reason to abandon their lord."

She shook her head but remained quiet. She could not train the laws only hope that the men would not get murdered in the advent of a battle. But she was presuming, the men could have gladly joined Tywin.

"I'm afraid that is where my experience ends, I concede to Lord Bolton. Matters of battle are not mine to interfere. Just know that Tywin is clearly accepting new men that are not his to take. I wish for your audience tonight, Robb, much news has arrived this morning."

Robb nodded but did not meet her eye, he hated the politics of this mock court. Their words had to be carefully plucked as to not offend and sometimes ended as convoluted as possible that their meaning was obscure. Josephine was an expert and Lord Bolton was the only one ever willing to spar with her often causing her to concede rather quickly. Robb supposed he should be glad that she conceded rather than initiating further like his mother. Josephine, at the very least, knew she was ignorant of battles. She provided information beyond adequate and her only equal - Lord Bolton - had not asked for her job which showed that she was performing well.

But something still struck him as wrong. He did not want his sister to be involved. He much preferred arguing with his men than her over what should occur. He did not know if he allowed her to do much of what she wanted because she was his sister or if she was merely good at her job and he trusted her. He felt as if he was betraying her slightly everytime he waited for his advisors to cut in and criticise or agree with her before he responded himself. She had negotiated with the Freys however and got passing on quite good terms - as Lord Bolton had said.

"We will convene tomorrow morning, my sister."

She smiled at him and his worries of betrayal left him temporarily, she curtsied, "Thank you, brother. Send Olyvar if you need me. Until tomorrow, my Lords."

They all stood up again and bowed, "My lady."

She walked out, her skirts already stained with mud, and whistled for Winter to follow her. Again she walked past Jaime but this time forgot not to look at him. She smiled at him but dropped it quickly when he just looked blankly back her at her. She was meant to walk past him and return her tent but he legs stopped in front of him. She couldn't think of anything to say so stayed still.

"How is your brother? Has he told you yet?"

She frowned, "Told me what?"

He chuckled, "I thought you were marrying the Red Viper down in Dorne?"

She huffed, blowing hair out of her face and regretted stopping, "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, "There were rumours about it when we travelled the Kings Road with your father."

"There is a war, Ser, this is not the time for marriage."

He barked a laugh, "Many not in the midst of war but most marriages happen immediately after."

She folded her arms over herself, "Then we shall be waiting until after."

He looked almost sad for a second before shifting in the mud, "If we all survive, my darling."

She nodded and walked away feeling more uncomfortable than ever. A chill ran down her spine slightly and caused a shooting pain from her shoulder blade to her collarbone. She didn't know why she had bothered speaking to Jaime. She had more expected him to snap insults at her like before but he hadn't. Was it because she felt bad? She wondered what was happening to Sansa and Arya. She felt as if anything happened to Jaime it would instantly happen to her sisters. Her lips were getting bitten too much due to recent events.

She felt bad for Jaime. Did he actually love Cersei? How true were the rumours? She wondered to herself if that was why she was sending spies to the capitol. Was Cersei a war-torn lover? It was a risk whenever she moved her spies about and she was expecting at least one to be killed and she had put away one hundred gold coins for their family.

She sat at her desk finally opening the letters.

 _From the Hand of Renly of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm,_

 _The rightful King Renly writes to inform the Stark house of his marriage to Margaery of House Tyrell. They had wed under the seven gods and Margaery has been named his Queen. We write to your house to ensure this knowledge is spread and invite Robb, Lord of Winterfell, to visit the King and his new Queen and pledge his allegiance to the true crown. Renly gives Robb and any of his council free passage into the Stormlands under his protection._

 _Renly is hosting a tourney in celebration of his marriage and extends an invitation toward the Lord of Winterfell. The crown compels him to take such invitation at the soonest convenience._

She hummed thoughtfully at the letter. She needed to consider the invitation. Robb would not be able to go. Nor any of his Lords since she was somewhat sure they would attempt to strike at Renly. She could send one of her handmaidens and her fastest Raven but she wondered how Renly would react to that. None of her handmaidens was even from the North and all were quite timid. She could travel down but… but she was worried about Jaime. She bit her nail as she re-read the letter over.

She would need to cut out the titles when reading it to the war table. They would all grow righteous at the mentioning that Robb was just the Lord of Winterfell and Renly the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. She had to get the core of the message along with the old men growing red in the face. Robb would not care either for the mincing of titles but would grow angry with his men if the situation demanded it.

Her mind wondered. What was Jaime like at his war table with his father? Did he copy the reactions of his lords? Was he just as sarcastic as with everyone else?

She bit her lips again. No. She was not going to think about their prisoner like he was anything but a prisoner.

"No, you have to wait until she is ready for an audience, she wishes to be alone," she heard one of her handmaidens squeak out.

"I am Theon Greyjoy, girl, Josephine is practically my kin. Allow me through."

"Lady Josephine does not wish to be disturbed even by you," another one of the girls squeaked again.

"Allana, Joyce, allow Theon in," Josephine finally called.

Theon walked into the tent practically red in the face. He looked embarrassed and annoyed. His hands were fiddling with a small box in his palm. He looked around the main cabin of the tent first before meeting her eyes.

Josephine's tent was much like her room in Winterfell. Carpets were draped across the place making the room keep all the heat securely in. A silver tapestry was partitioning the rest of the tent hiding her bed from any eyes but a copper bathing tub was clear for people to see. A mirror was kneeling against her desk, reflecting Theon back at himself. She had a desk and a table and chairs in her tent. The desk, which she sat at now, was littered with letters and had two red candles burning. The table was small with nothing on it but a plate of grapes she had requested the night before and two goblets stained with wine. Three chairs surrounded the table, crowding it. Winter lay under the table his eyes shut but his tail lazily moving from side to side, warning any visitors that the Direwolf was very much awake.

Theon's eyes then went to Josephine. She was practically glowing in the candlelit room. She was smiling politely but her eyes were already tired and her hair had been pushed back and was being held from her face by pins. He almost felt guilty for intruding at such a time. She clearly was not wanting visitors like the two young girls had insisted outside. She stood up and walked to the table, inviting Theon with a petite hand.

"To what do I owe the pleasure," she smiled.

He rolled his eyes, "Shut it with that, I'm not one of them," he gestured with his hand to the outside of the tent.

She grinned, "No. That is why it is a pleasure," she embraced Theon like she did Robb before sitting down.

"Your mother is heading back to Winterfell," he informed.

"I know, Bran and Rickon need her. Bran cannot handle managing Winterfell alone."

"I have a gift for them," Theon placed the box on the table, "Catelyn hates me, I want you to give it to her and say it is from you."

"What is it?" she picked up the small wooden box and inspected it with a raised eyebrow.

It was a wooden box. She shook it gently and heard something rattle inside. Her eyes returned to Theon who was grinning.

"It's a Dornish puzzle."

She grinned back, "They will love that, thank you."

Theon squirmed in his seat not moving.

"And what else do you have to say?"

He sighed and looked away as he spoke, "I do not want you to walk by the Kingslayer without protection."

She frowned and leaned back in her chair, "I have Winter."

He shook his head, "Winter isn't always here. He wanders off himself and by the time you whistle the Kingslayer may have done something."

She threw her hands in the air, "There are guards as well!"

"They are not trained like the best."

"And what do you propose? I am to interrogate him by Robb's orders and I intend to."

He was quite a few seconds, "I could escort you."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Theon, I do not need help in broad daylight to walk a short distance."

He reached and rested a hand on her arm. Josephine watched the gesture. She and Theon had never been particularly close. She rode with her brothers but that was as close as she was. She never could stand Theon for long as every time she spent time with him he would begin talking about whores he had fucked. Robb and Jon had the decency not to. Theon was only enjoyable when the whole family was around.

"I don't mean to offend, my lady, just be cautious of the man."

She put a hand over his, perhaps war had changed him, "Thank you. I have business to attend to. But tomorrow a bard from the Vale is arriving. You can escort me to that, Winter hunts at night."

He smiled and nodded at her. Theon stood up and mock-bowed before quickly leaving the tent. He barked something at her handmaidens and Josephine rolled her eyes. She relaxed in her seat and blew air out of her mouth. A hand rubbed the crease in her forehead, she was frowning much more now. Tomorrow could be another day she pretended nothing serious was happening. A bard would be fun to listen to especially since this one would have a new set of songs. She called her handmaidens in and set about a bath.

She mused in her own head why Theon visited her and not Robb. None of the conclusions she drew was exactly happy.

 _ **Just want to say I am so thankful for the response she had got from people. I love reviews so much. Thanks for the encouragement and thanks for the suggestions for the story. If you do have any theories or suggestions for plot PLEASE feel free to give! I am pretty likely to take your suggestion (or it would have been a thought anyway) because it is so helpful seeing my characters from a different angle. Anyway, Thanks!**_


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a week since she last saw Jaime. He had hardly been on her mind as her prisoner that isn't to say he wasn't on her mind. Josephine lay in her bed, running a finger against the furs, as she thought of him. She only felt pity and that worried her. She had spent the week trying to move past the pity and find the anger that Robb felt towards Jaime. Josephine wanted the Lannisters dead - that wasn't a question - but Jaime Lannister dead didn't make her happy or like her father was being avenged. She was probably just weak, her mind told her.

Letters were scattered about her from handmaidens in the capitol. She had been correct they gossiped as if spies did not exist. She wondered if Cersei knew what they thought of her. And then there was one letter she hadn't expected. It was sent two Cersei via slipping it under her door but Cersei had not been on the other side. One of Josephine's spies had been on the other side instead. The spy, a mousy old maid, had grabbed the letter without reading and sent it straight to Josephine.

She had blushed reading the letter. It was a love letter to the Queen. The flowery language did not do much but hide the vulgar nature. Metaphors and misspelling about the act made her certain this was not from an admirer by far. Josephine had only seen the Queen once but now appeared to know too much. She kept trying to look away and compose herself before reading onward.

She would need to not grow red in the face when showing Robb or any of the Lords. If she grew red she would just be shooed out of the war room to protect her maidenhood as if reading about the act made her less pure. She rubbed her brow. Focus.

"My Princess," a timid voice called, "Theon Greyjoy, is requesting your presence."

She sighed. She did not need to show Robb the actual letter, she could pen a summary herself. The other letters merely confirmed that this likely was not the only love letter and there was not a singular lover. She sat up and brushed down her skirts as if it could get rid of the acts she had just read.

"Thank you, Joyce," she smiled at the young girl as she walked past and out the tent.

The air was cold, reminiscent of the North, and bit her cheeks causing them to redden. Theon stood awfully straight and smiled at her appearance. She smiled back and accepted his leather-clad arm. He was a year older than her but his impish smile could cause people to guess he was younger.

"A bard from the Kings Road has come here," Theon began walking them through the winding paths around tents, "There is a song that apparently Joffrey killed a man over. Had him tortured for hours is what the bard says."

"He is probably lying," she frowned.

Had Sansa or Arya seen that? Had Joffrey tortured them as well? A soothing voice reminded her that they would not risk that now they had Jaime. But a harsher one reminded her of her father's death. She shook her head and looked down as the wind whipped around them.

Theon was oblivious and shrugged, "I doubt that. Look sit here," he moved her on a half cut log around a fire.

Around twenty other men and servants were gathered around the fire. They had all scattered and quieted down as she and Theon arrived. If she was a commoner she would have had to sit in the mud like they had but the men in armour (of a house she could not recall) had moved quickly out of their seats. She tried to smile but it came off weak.

The fire rose in the wind and the smoke whipped around. On the opposite side was the bard. A tall wiry man with greasy long hair. He had lost a tooth and was grinning widely at Josephine. He made an exaggerated bow and clicked his feet in the air. His lute was brand new, however, likely brought from some merchant on the road. Or stolen.

The men and women laughed at his gesture and the man strolled closed to Josephine. He curtsied this time, his head touching the mud in the mock gesture.

This time Josephine laughed with the soldiers, she felt the stress slipping away.

"My Princess," he straightened, "Is there a request?"

He began plucking away at the strings and people looked in anticipation.

She didn't have time to speak, Theon cut in, "The one from King's Landing!"

Everyone cheered and Josephine suppressed a frown. It hardly song good if Joffrey had killed a man over it. She smiled anyway and nodded. She did not want to spoil the fun and request the bear and the maiden fair. Maybe it was good she wasn't listening to a romance song after those letters.

He plucked his strings and started singing simple notes.

"The boar's great tusks they boded ill, for good King Robert's health, and the beast as every bit as fat as Robert was himself, but our brave King cried "Do you worse, I'll have your ugly head! You are nowhere as near as murderous as the lion in my bed!" King Robert lost his battle hand and he failed his final test. The lion ripped his balls off… and the boar did all the rest"

Everyone laughed and Josephine could not help joining in. It was easier to listen to what had caused this dreadful war in a joking song. She wondered if any bards were making jokes about her and Robb in King's Landing.

When the characters were put in a song she could act as if it was legends of old. She could listen to songs about Rhaegar and Lyanna and feel no sadness as was apparent in her father's eyes. She had once asked him about Arthur Dayne - the best swordsman to ever live according - but her father had ignored her request and later her mother chided her.

She sat next to Theon and clapped with everyone else. She listened to the next son and laughed with everyone else. And soon she was blending into the audience with everyone else. People soon forgot she was technically a princess.

By nightfall, Theon was tugging at her hand once more.

"I need to go to Robb for his counsel."

He looked proud of that statement. Josephine frowned, wondering who else he had tried to boast to.

"So do I," she reminded Theon, standing up without his resistance, "I will meet you there, I need to collect letters."

She steeled herself and began walking away but Theon caught up in quick strides. Josephine was considerably smaller than her brothers and even Sansa threatened to grow over her. She sighed and didn't try to walk faster. She arrived in her tent and was glad Allana stood there. The handmaiden was red in the face when Josephine took the letters.

She winked at the poor girl. Allana and Joyce were not her handmaidens from Winterfell and were much timider. They seemed all too aware of Josephine's new title. Josephine could not remember what house they were from - if they were from one - but both had acted in their roles with tact. She did not trust them but if they were anyone's spies she would have known.

"I know when the new bards come in and the old leave," Theon finally spoke as Josephine totted around the tent picking up notes.

Josephine hummed in response not really paying attention.

Theon coughed, "I could inform you when they do."

She just nodded and walked back out the tent by his side, "Thank you."

He coughed again as if trying to prompt more but they began walking to Robb's tent. She forgot why she didn't want Theon escorting her until Theon was already standing in front of Jaime. She cursed and caught up the few paces Theon had bounded. Theon was standing too close. His feet touching Jaime's own.

"Theon," she reprimanded, tugging his arm.

Jaime was grinning. The young man had his chest puffed out as if he was a notable warrior. His beetle eyes were trained on him and he was pulling a grimace. Jaime wondered if he was really in pain or if he simply thought that was the sort of face you must pull when talking to a prisoner.

He stopped himself making a comment as Josephine appeared on the other side of the man. She was pulling that face again - the child who was angry over spilt milk. Her cheeks were flaming hot this time though. Jaime hadn't seen her - or really anyone - in a week. His eyes glanced at her and found himself annoyed. The young man was here which restricted Jaime's ability to enjoy Josephine. If she had come here herself he could have jabbed at her, hurt her, and annoyed her. It would have been some form of entertainment. But now, he wanted to throw his arms up dramatically, he had to restrict his words. The young man would hit him and Josephine would… Josephine would probably touch him again. He did not want that.

No, he did not.

"Josie, go to Robb," Theon Greyjoy ordered her.

And now Jaime's mouth hurt. He had not wandered down this avenue. Was Josephine a docile little creature? Would she run to her brother or mother? In the week absence, he had been mentally creating a list of things to bring up with Josephine to anger her. He hadn't figured out his route of escape but if he could figure out Josephine he could perhaps use her.

She crossed her arms and actually huffed. Jaime wanted to laugh.

"Ser Jaime is my prisoner, Greyjoy. You have no business even looking his way."

The young Greyjoy turned and faced Josephine.

"You seek to protect a Kingslayer? He would cut you down in a second. He would have cut your King down in a second!"

Jaime shrugged his shoulders as Josephine's eyes quickly glanced at him.

"And so would have your father," she shot back, "It does not change your standing and having Ser Jaime under my guard does not change mine."

Theon rolled his eyes, "You are too weak for this war, Josie, you do not know the cruelties that are necessary."

This time Josephine took a step closer to stand toe to toe with the boy. She was more than a head smaller and her face had scrunched up most unattractively as she prodded Theon in the chest.

"You forget your station," she hissed, "I am Josephine Stark. That is what you shall call me. You are Lord of nothing and skilled at nothing. You may be Robb's brother but you are not mine."

Theon looked down his nose before walking away without a word.

Josephine's hands shook as she turned to Jaime. She rests them on her hips and she looked down at the man she had defended in the mud.

Her words were curt, "Has anyone else visited you?"

He thought about lying, "No."

"How did you get muddier," she sighed, rubbing out her scrunched up face with her hands now.

It was true. Mud was caked on his left side considerably more than his right. Jaime nearly chuckled at her noticing and the fact the guard on his left straightened up quickly. Josephine did not notice.

"I fell."

She shook her head and sighed as she noticed the letters she held were more crumpled before.

"What do you have there? Love letters?" Jaime asked.

Josephine bloomed red. She looked down at the letters and tilted them more away from Jaime. She was planning on showing him after Robb have given permission, but she wasn't sure now. She opened and shut her mouth like a fish out of water, hoping foolishly that a word would eventually fall out. Gods, how many words must she know and why were none of them coming?

Jaime chuckled at her silence, "So they are love letters? You don't need to hide them from me, darling, I won't get too jealous."

She was thankful for his long drawled words at her. It gave her time. She crossed her arms, essentially hiding the letters in the crook of her elbow. She put on a painted and forced smile.

"They aren't for me," she just replied, "There is news from King's Landing you might be interested in."

He perked up slightly, "Is the war over?"

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes, "Tyrion has been named Hand of the King. He actually wrote to me yesterday to inform of the change."

Josephine watched for any reaction, analysing him closely. Tyrion would be much easier to negotiate with rather than Tywin, Josephine knew, or any of the other Lannisters. Tyrion would be more likely to broker peace than Tywin, Tyrion would be more likely to keep Sansa and Arya safe. Tyrion was close to his brother but not to the Queen so that questioned Jaime's alliance.

Jaime merely smiled and looked up at the blue sky. He seemed pleased.

"Realy?"

"Yes, he, uh, he seemed willing to talk. Though I think he worries more about Stannis than us. He enquired about your health and I enquired about my sisters."

Jaime nearly forgot who Josephine actually was for a second. Josephine was just a young woman who was thrown in the war. She was not Cersei, she was not revealing in any perceived or actual power. She was not boasting that Tyrion was writing to her but actually seemed wary of the task.

Jaime wasn't sure however how much of an act she was putting on or if she was just a bad player. Her eyes were downcast at the mention of her sisters but she had a forced smile on her face. She was the perfect armour little lady. She batted her eyelashes, blushed, and scrunched up her face as if she was incapable of actually scowling.

If Robb or his men were smart they would have known Jaime would not succumb to any torture. He was too prideful but perhaps they thought he would to a pitiful lady. Josephine was a woman that needed guards, a woman that needed a cloak on her shoulders, a woman that needed this war to be over. He wasn't compelled to end the war but he was compelled to… to what? He didn't know so chose not to ponder the question too much.

"Well, I am in dashing shape thanks to you," he mocked another bow.

"I will relay that. I have other news," her fingers clutched the letters tighter, "But you will have to wait."

He chuckled again, was this her version of interrogation?

"I have all the time for you."

She smiled sardonically back at him and nodded her head. Josephine was glad that Jaime was not like the other soldiers captured. They spat on the floor and swore at anyone that walked past. Most of the soldiers were killed even if they were alive after the battle, she was informed, the only ones kept were ones with any standing above commoner for the sake of negotiation for our soldiers were captured. Tywin seemed mostly disinterested in that, however.

Josephine nodded and walked the rest of the way to Robb's tent. She took her place opposite Robb and smiled warmly at her brother. She could be confident. She had to be.

"Sister," he acknowledged as the other men routinely bowed before sitting down, "News?"

"As predicted our spies have gathered news. Tyrion is now the hand of the King -"

"The Boy King," one of the Lords interrupted spitting.

"Yes, the Boy King," Josephine continued, "He has already written to me asking of his brother and I have asked about Sansa and Arya. We need to consider the possibility of trading prisoners will be approaching."

"I don't trust the half man. All Lannisters are deceitful," The Karstark added.

"I am not suggesting we allow a trade soon without us coming out on top, my Lord. However, the Lannisters have also proven heavy handed with the executioner," she bit her lip slightly thoughts of her father flashing through her brain, "But we have Tywin's most loved son. We have made promises already regarding Sansa and Arya so it is important that we have them back."

"But would that give us an upper hand?" Robb finally spoke, staring at the map.

He must feel guilty, Josephine presumed. Both of them were discussing their loved sisters as if they were packages and not humans. Josephine found it easier than she thought she would. She had never called Sansa or Arya by their names but rather nicknames so it was easy to pretend that Sansa and Arya were actually different people. She could pretend that just as she pretended her brother was not crippled or that her father was alive. It was slowly becoming harder now that she had Jaime under her wing but it was not yet impossible.

"A simple trade," she measured her words, "from our standing now, would perhaps weaken us."

"I agree with the lady," Bolton interjected nodding his head several times.

She smiled at Bolton, "I propose we gain more. We are only fighting for the North, not the Seven Kingdoms so it is not useful marching on King's Landing. But it is perhaps useful gaining on the Lannisters. As well as talking to Stannis and Renly."

"Renly is not useful," Robb insisted, clearly finding this topic easier.

She shook her head, "It hardly matters. We merely need to assure both would ensure the North's freedom as well as hand Sansa and Arya back if they siege King's Landing."

Robb frowned, looking at his Lords.

The Karstark spoke once more, "Would pledging to both not make us weak?"

Josephine sighed, "We pledge to neither. Not yet at least. I will visit Renly within the month. He has called Stannis to meet him as well. We could act as a mediator and neutral party. I will declare the North only has interests in its freedom."

"I have to agree with your sister, my King," another Lord said, "We should allow the brothers to fight themselves. The Lannisters are our enemy."

Robb rubbed his brow, he had grown and age since this started. He had wrinkles on his forehead and his beard had quickly grown. Perhaps his hair had somehow darkened. His nose had been broke in a battle and now was slightly crooked and, according to the men, he had scars on his arms and chest now. She hadn't asked. She didn't want to think of him fighting.

"We shall continue defending the Riverlands for now before we go westward," Robb said, "You shall answer Renley's invitation. Fifty men will escort you as will Winter and Grey Wind."

"Fifty men will hinder me. I cannot leave camp that long," Josephine crossed her arms

He looked hard at her and Josephine nearly faltered right there. None of the Lords spoke. None disagreed with what Robb said.

"Fifty is final, Josephine."

She merely nodded, running a hand through her hair, "There is one more thing I want to discuss before I leave you for your battle plans."

He waved his hand onward.

"I need to reiterate that Ser Jaime Lannister is my prisoner. I will not need any help from any of you nor your soldiers unless asked."

The Karstark stood up, his whole face turned downward, "Are my guards unsuitable, my lady?"

"No, no," she smiled, "Your men are honourable and I trust them, my lord, I shall take my leave now," she stood up and curtsied, "My King."

The other lords all stood up and nodded to her as she left, following protocol. She smiled to herself, feeling supremely more confident to now face Jaime. It was easier facing Jaime after discussing matters with the Lords of the North and her brother. She felt like a woman in power like she was actually deserving the position she had been given by her brother. Josephine held her head high and moved towards Jaime in confidence.

"Ser," she greeted him almost pleasantly.

He rolled his eyes and looked up at her, "What is it, darling?"

Now she fidgeted slightly, "I have letters."

"I can see that," he spoke slowly as if she was soft in the head.

"For you, actually, I have spies in the capital. They've collected letters, from handmaidens and from someone else."

"And these interest me…"

"I just want you to ensure their authenticity. I am hoping you'll be able to tell me who the letters are written by," she stood closer and knelt down to his level.

Josephine's cheeks had stained a slightly pink and her hands shook slightly as she held the letters toward him. His hands were tired close together but he had full mobility of his arms. He didn't move to grab the letters but just looked back at her.

"Is this your first interrogation of me?" he was smirking and looked almost victorious.

"No," Josephine scrunched up her face, "Every time I talk to you it is an interrogation. Technically."

He barked a laugh, "Ahh, is that so? I thought you were visiting to entertain me."

She scoffed, "Do you want the letters or not. I can read them out?"

He rolled his eyes. He was almost disappointed in her farce but also curious. She was kneeling so close to him, closer than before, that he wondered what he could do. She smelled of lavender and gooseberries. Her eyes were wider than usual and she looked at him like a child would. Did she purposely do so? Her lips were bitten and ruined and her hair tousled where her hands had been running through it. But she still was a picture of youthful beauty. Jaime hated it.

He felt bad taunting her. He felt bad that she was a Stark. This war would never end in their favour and she was more than a bystander. Tywin would blame her, Tywin would care little about killing her. Jaime was angrier at Robb Stark, however, for not sending Josephine away. Jaime didn't have the power (or the actual will) to send her away.

He needed not to feel that way. Jaime did not like it.

"Read out the one that made you blush," he ordered looking away from her with a smirk.

"I… I don't think you want me to."

"Yes, I do."

"O… okay," she shuffled the letters and he watched her eyes catch over the aforementioned letter.

He cheeks reddened and it crawled down her neck as well. She refused to look up at her and she held the letter.

"My...," she took a deep mouthful of air, "My sweetest darling, I write to you while looking out on the golden sands of King's Landing and all it reminds me off… all it reminds me off are the golden hairs between your thighs."

She looked up, her lips bitten at the smirking Jaime. He was enjoying this too much to think who the letter was concerning nor who it was written by. The words came out her mouth too slowly for him to really think what they were saying. Her lips moulded around the words as if she did not speak the language. And somehow he was replacing the actual words she was saying with a fantasy in his head. He replaced the 'golden sands' with the mud surrounding him and allowed his mind to drift toward Josephine. He would allow this, he told himself, as thinking of her that way stopped himself from actually caring for her.

He imagined, somewhat, that she was reading a love letter penned to her instead of whoever this was penned to. He imagined, only slightly, that he had written some horrid letter merely because he knew it would make her blush and glare at him. He imagined, only for a short while, that she would roll her eyes but smile slightly at the effort he had gone. He imagined, for longer this time, that she would write something just as horrid back to annoy him.

"Cersei."

The name made his eyes narrow and snap to her. She had continued reading the letter while he had been thinking.

"What did you just say," he interpreted his voice low.

She still wasn't looking and a new wave of heat passed her face, "Oh, the line was: I still dream of following those freckles down to your sweetness as you call out my name, Gods, Cersei, I dream of the nights we spent with every waking moment."

His fun had been ruined. He didn't want to think of Cersei. He didn't want to compare her to Josephine again. Cersei was his only love, he assured himself, and he was the only love of Cersei. The letter would be fake, written by a handmaiden wanting gossip. But the comment about freckles made his jaw tense. Cersei did not allow handmaidens to bathe her, insisting to him, that they would see she had been with Jaime. He didn't see the problem with that but could not ask anything of her.

"I…," she bit her lip and Jaime hated her almost, "Do you want me to continue?"

"Who is the letter written by?"

"I… uh… I do not know," she flicked her eyes over the pages, "It is signed 'Your hidden lover' and.. Well… it mentioned the King's Guard. So, so, I believe it is written by someone on the King's Guard."

"I see," Jaime looked away.

He hated this place. He was surrounded by mud. Everywhere he looked he saw the brown. Jaime felt like he was sinking into the brown. It had ruined his golden hair and caked itself over his fingers. He was permitted to wash but the mud soon covered him again. His life was revolving around the mud around him and it made him sick.

"Do you want me to continue?" she asked timidly.

Gods! She looked at him as if she was scared of him. He hadn't raised his voice. He hadn't moved. But she looked at him in fear. His arms twitched.

"No."

He watched her sigh.

"Do you want the letters? I would," she closed her eyes for a prolonged second, "I would appreciate if you could authenticate the letters and give me the identity of this one."

He felt bad for her. He should help her.

"Yes, I will try."

"Thank you," she didn't move from her spot, "I will visit when I can."

He wanted to taunt her about her words but he didn't. He felt exhausted. He had been here a month. Josephine was the only one talking to him and he could not stand the two-week isolation he had from her beforehand.

She finally stood up, her small clean hand leaning on his shoulder to help herself up.

Josephine smiled down at him once more, "I will be leaving camp within the next week. I am preparing to leave extra guards with you and Winter."

Jaime bit his tongue. He wondered if her brother knew she was leaving her best protection with him. He said no more and watched as the sadness fled through her eyes before she turned and left.

He had to get out. He had to seize the opportunity. He could do it when she was gone he was sure.

 **AN: bit of a bridge chapter but lots is happening over the next few. Expect another update very soon with more action. Again thank you for reviews and the favourites and the follows. It really means a lot.**


	4. Chapter 4

Josephine sat across from Robb, holding the goblet of wine close to her heart as he cut into his food. She was chewing her lip as she stared at his food. The meat was bloody and piled heavily on the plate. Josephine wondered if Robb still knew he was being pampered compared to the normal soldier - they both were. Robb took to war well and seemed to have no qualms and Josephine did as well to a certain extent. She had inherited Bolton's few spies and employed her own quickly as they marched south. They both still felt like children though.

Robb had little care outside of battles and she had little care for battles. He had been named King but hadn't done anything different since becoming one. She had taken to her role as spymaster and conducted rather well. Robb was somewhat dismissive of the value of such work, as was natural of northerners, but the only reason they knew of Lannister movements was thanks to her. The only reason they knew the plan to capture Jaime Lannister would work was that of her. She would be the one to ensure Sansa and Arya arrived home; part of her could not trust Robb now he was King. He had bigger concerns than his younger sisters. He had to keep his whole army appeased. Josephine did not. As soon as they offered the trade - between Sansa and Arya for Jaime - she would take it. She could not be sure if Robb or any of the Northern Lords would. They want their freedom.

"Any word from Dorne?" Robb finally asked, eating more.

"No."

She took a large gulp of wine.

"The reach?"

"No."

Another large gulp.

"Did father ever finalise those betrothals?"

She met his eyes, squinting at him.

"No, you would have known. The whole kingdom would have known."

He set down his fork and knife, continuing the prolonged eye contact.

"Theon wants to go to Balon and propose they join us. To ensure they do, Theon has proposed to me that you two join."

"Join? In marriage?"

Robb tentatively reached out and clasped her one small hand in his large one. Her free hand lifted the goblet to her mouth once more. He was stopping her from hitting him. Or flipping the table. Or running out and ringing Theon by his neck.

"Yes. It would be beneficial."

She huffed, "No it would not. The Greyjoys cannot be trusted, Balon is still a traitor. They offer no meaningful alliance to the North and will turn on us as soon as the Lannisters ask."

"They would rather align with us than them."

"They would rather be free they don't care if the North is free."

His jaw flexed and strained, "They would be part of the North."

"They wouldn't see that as freedom. Balon thinks of himself as some sort of King."

"Balon is old, Theon would see differently."

"And you would see that I am his wife. You would see me in some cold castle as Theon whores about with sea hands!"

She had snatched her hand and stood up. Her body was shaking as if she was seriously cold. She wanted to yell at him. She had kept her voice low, not wanting anyone to hear outside the burlap.

"You would marry off Arya to some Frey boy you know nought about!"

Josephine was seething. Did he pretend like he didn't agree?

"Arya is marrying some Frey boy. He is heir to nought. He will be moving to Winterfell and they will spend their days there under your eye. Arya will have every bit of freedom I can give her. I will not be marrying the son of a traitor who whores around to get the likes of Balon Greyjoy on our side."

That caused Robb to snap and he stood up as well. One of his hands was balled up and one was pointing at her as if they were in a crowd and he needed to show his anger was directed solely at her. His eyes were wide and his nostrils flared.

"You will do as your King commands."

Josephine slapped him then. Winter shot up and left the room at the sound. Her hand vibrated in pain; they both looked at the offending limb in shock as if it had acted for itself. She wobbled slightly and retreated further into the tent. Where was the wine?

Robb stood for a few seconds.

"Once the alliance is secure you will be marrying Theon."

She turned and didn't watch him leave, her body shaking. She had found the wine and had gripped the bottle. She couldn't breathe properly. She was gulping down the air but nothing seemed to be coming back out. Her hands went to her sides and she bent down. She needed to drink the wine. Drinking something would soothe her.

When she stopped drinking the liquid she was surprised the bottle was empty. Her breathing was still rapid but she didn't feel angry anymore. She could hardly think about what angered her. But now the room was too hot and seeing the bloody meat was making her feel sick. When had the room gotten this hot?

She whistled. Well, she attempted several times before she actually whistled. She had grabbed and uncorked another bottle by the time Winter had come back in. Look, she wanted to say, look how smart she was being. She wasn't going to wander around without protection.

"You love me don't you?" She stroked her wolf as it nuzzled into her, "You do."

Then she began her walk. She was going to find a bard and she wanted to find someone else as well. She couldn't think who. Allana? No, that wasn't it. She wandered off anyway, her legs seemingly following the sound of close by music. She'd find out who she wanted to see she assured herself.

Josephine woke up the next day in her bed, holding her head. Several people were moving around her tent and she could hear the two girls whispering sharp commands at soldiers moving in and out. She remained quiet and tried to listen in. She did not want to sound as if she did not know what was happening. Was the camp moving?

She stood up, her head already held high, "Allana, can you help me get ready, please?"

The mousy girl appeared at her side already holding a dress. A travelling dress, plush and comforting.

"My lady," she curtsied and starting helping Josephine manoeuvre into the thing.

"Allana," Josephine sighed, "What is happening here?"

Allana peeked up, looking timid as always, "You are travelling to the Stormlands today, my lady."

Josephine's lips pursed. Robb's insistence, she assured herself. She would go, do her job, and come back to greet Robb with her fury. She was going to send a trusting ambassador. Renly was not inviting her to negotiate nor do much at all. He had invited her to formally ask for the Northerners to stop whatever they were doing and support him. And Stannis was also appearing to ask the same thing. They would both pretend as if Robb wasn't the only one who had actually won any battles in the whole war. And then she would refuse and travel back to camp.

"How long is the travel?"

"A day and a half, my lady."

Josephine sighed and allowed Allana to do her work without resistance. Both girls were hand picked by Josephine as soon as she left Winterfell. Both were young and easily looked over by nobles but pretty enough to be noticed by boasting soldiers. Both had given her counsel and were well suited to the jobs of a handmaiden at war.

"Allana," Josephine stopped the girl as she rubbed smells into her arms, "Do you think speaking with Renly will change anything?"

The girl hesitated but not because she hadn't contemplated the question Josephine was asking her but because she was picking her words carefully. Allana continued the task, looking intently at Josephine's arms.

"Anything anyone does changes thing, my lady," she paused before continuing, "Lord Renly is young and not too dissimilar to King Robb."

Josephine tilted her head and looked into the polished mirror. She supposed Allana was right. Josephine did not actually know Renly would reject an alliance. She didn't actually know Stannis would either.

"Thank you, we will set off before noon."

Allana looked up again, biting her little lip, "It is already two hours past noon, my lady."

Josephine nearly laughed when he cheeks spiked red. Of course, it was! She had an even shorter amount of time to go through the list of things she needed to do in her head. Visit Robb, write a letter to mother, organise who was travelling with her, and secure Jaime. She could write a letter to Robb instead of seeing him, she supposed, and she could write both letters while travelling.

"Allana, when are we leaving then?"

"Before the end of the hour, my lady"

She sighed through her nose, "I trust you and Joyce have sorted through the guards my brother has offered?"

"Yes, my lady."

She pinched her nose, "Good, good, get Joyce won't you?"

In a few seconds, both girls stood in front of her equally mousy. They wrung their hands and looked everywhere but Josephine. They were both older than her by nearly a decade. But both had delayed growth and their pudgy faces made them look younger. Neither had suitors despite being from fine families but it was the curse of being the eighth or ninth daughter. Allana's father had been immensely pleased when she became a handmaiden - it offered some rank even if she never got married; Joyce's father was also glad since they'd be passing many young Lords and fourth sons on the road South. They both were incredibly similar and both had light brown long hair parted solidly in the middle. Both seemed to wear near identical clothing and Josephine would often find them walking behind her and taking notes. They were smart girls. Her shoulders slackened as she looked them over.

"I trust you both, immensely," she started and saw as the girls perked up, "You both have shown intelligence that I did not believe I would find."

Josephine winced at her own words, did that sound too harsh?

She continued, "I really hope you see me as more than your lady. I see you as invaluable advisors I would do nought without."

Josephine quickly reached under her bed, the only place she believed the girls would not tidy in her absence. She held out a two small palm size boxes to both of them and was pleased when they reached grabbed their one without needing to say. When the boxes clicked opened their eyes were both wide.

"These are pins. They mark that you are acting in the stead of a small council member - myself. I want you two to stay here on my leave and act for me. I trust you both to do the job well. You only need to appear at council if Robb calls. And when I come back I would ask for you to continue working under me," Josephine paced the room, they were only handmaidens and she was putting them in danger, "I do not want you to act as spies nor run out to war."

She stopped and looked at the girls, noticing they had already added their pins to their breasts. Josephine smiled. She took a deep breath. She couldn't pretend the war didn't exist now, she couldn't pretend she was flirting in some awkward limbo anymore. She was going to see an adversary face to face within two days time. Renly nor Stannis would hurt her but they both could soon be facing Robb. She needed to stop acting childish. She needed to be like father was.

She was almost going as far south as he did. That thought made her mouth taste cold and bitter. She shook her head, where she was going again, acting like a child.

Josephine attempted a smile at the women, "And call me Josephine, please, we are working together now and I need you to not see me as above you."

Josephine had never allowed her handmaidens to call her by her name before. In Winterfell, she was looked after by two much older women and her Septa had chided her anytime she got too friendly with them. Sansa and she had both followed the rules and got acquainted with more suitable friends. That felt like a lifetime ago and Allana and Joyce were no longer her handmaidens.

"Of course, Josephine," Allana was quick to reply and returned to her duties, tugging Joyce with her.

Josephine painted on her smile again and stepped into the fresh air, away from the women and the soldiers emptying her tent for her travel. She whistled lowly, surprised when Winter weaved his way between tents to her right. He did not look muddy nor bloody but Josephine trusted her well-trained wolf got in no trouble.

Jaime saw her before she really saw him despite the fact she was seeking him. He saw her first as she went to his previous imprisoned spot, one hundred meters in front of him. She went to the spot walking all the way to the post he had been tied to. He wanted to call her name and mock her but found it more fascinating to watch. Had she forgotten the previous night? She was drunk, he reminded himself, and oh so little. Obviously, the drink would go straight to her brain.

She stood on the spot before feeling his eyes on her and whirled round to him.

He raised an eyebrow, though doubted she could see it, as she rushed over to him. As she came closer he found himself not being able to draw his eye away. She was wearing a plush golden dress. It crossed over her body leaving a fur rim and hugged her tight. Her hair had been pinned completely out of her face he almost couldn't tell it was brown. All it left was the plate size brown eyes that looked at him as if she was innocent in everything. Ha! Not after last night.

Her hands were covered in similar golden gloves, completely hiding the small digits from him. She had crossed her arms though once she stood in front of him, just like she used to when he sat in the other spot. Her blasted wolf had stopped meters behind her and lay down. Jaime was glad the mutt was mostly hidden from view.

"Who moved you over here?" her voice was sharp, "Why are the guards so far away?"

He chuckled, she didn't remember, "You moved me here. You ordered them to stand further away."

She screwed up her face, "When?"

"Last night."

Her cheeks flushed red and all the blood ran to them in urgency. She broke their eye contact and looked around as if inspecting the place. Her arms had dropped to her side and he watched as her fingers twitched.

His new place was out of the mud, slightly. He sat on a small grass embankment on the only part of grass left since the camp had been set up. The end of the camp was still two hundred meters away on the shortest route - he had been watching the route the guards too to piss - but he was closer than before. From his slight stoop, he could nearly see over the tents and could see a treeline on the opposite side of camp. Jaime was also level with her now and neither had to look up or down. He was immensely proud of himself the night before for securing this place.

"You do remember don't you?" he smirked at her, "You seemed fine to me."

She tugged at her hair behind her head, "I was. I was. I, uh, I am going to be gone for a week, maybe more. My handmaidens might visit you so I expect you to be… be not completely rude."

He barked a laugh, "Do you find me rude?"

She rolled her eyes, "Did you verify those letters for me?"

His face dropped from the smirk and now his eyes were shifting. He could just ignore her, he supposed. She was just here to get information, it hardly mattered. He could tell her the truth and it would not make a difference. When the war was won by his father anything he told her would mean nothing. He might as well be screaming into the void.

"I don't know who it is from," he still lied though.

She was silent and tried to meet his eye line but merely shrugged, "Fine. Winter will be staying here to guard you."

"I don't need that, that, beast to sit by my side."

Now she was smirking and he almost forgot what they were talking about until the mutt appeared at her side.

"Are you scared? You go into battle! You are part of the King's Guard! You're Jaime Lannister!"

"You don't realise how wonderful it is to hear that you think so highly."

He watched her cheeks redden again, "I… well, Winter is incredibly well trained. I almost take offence at you not trusting me."

"You shouldn't trust animals. They don't understand anything."

"Winter understands," she huffed, "You'll have to get used to him."

"I don't have much choice no do I, darling," he held up his rope tied hands.

He was surprised when her face dropped. How much of this was a charade? How much of this was she interrogating him, using her pretty little face and innocence to sway him? All of it, he told himself, all of it.

"No, you don't," she had already taken a few steps away from him, "I suspect they might forget to feed you when I am away. I have ordered my handmaiden's to deliver your food."

He rolled his eyes. Classic tactic. They wanted him to associate everything positive with her so he would feel positive about her and spill all the military secrets he had. Did she really think that would work? Did she really think he wouldn't see through it all? He wasn't dumb. Cersei was the more intelligent twin, as she often reminded him, but he was not dumb.

"So," Josephine looked away again, hugging herself, "Until then, Ser."

And then she mock curtsied and Jaime felt the smile go to his face naturally. Too naturally that it was gone by the time she looked at him again.

"Until then, my lady."

She turned, her voice sharp, "Winter, guard."

Jaime watched as the mutt stood up and padded over near where his legs were outstretched and laid back down. Its tail flopped lazily. Jaime inched away but could not move much. He didn't watch Josephine walk away and part of him regretted it.

He did not know it at the time but that regret would swell low in his belly for the rest of the week. And soon he would regret that, upon his new seat, all he could still stare at was the mud even if he wasn't in it. He kept forgetting what shade of gold Cersei's hair was and when thinking about her his thoughts quickly derailed into Lannister's capturing a lone Josephine on the road. He didn't forget that she did not mention where she was travelling to.


	5. Chapter 5

Josephine felt hectic. When she arrived at Renly's camp (full of men drunk on wine and aspirations of fighting rather than the realities of fighting) she had several letters waiting for her. Her mother was returning back to Robb's camp due to their grandfather's waning health. She needed to be there to secure Edmund and the Lord's of the Riverlands for Robb. They saw Edmund as a child, Gods know what they saw Robb and Josephine. She also had a letter from Little Finger announcing he would also like an audience with her. A brisk one from Robb informing her to keep the trip short and he'd send more men to meet her on her way back as news of her arrival would surely be everyone's information. She knew Tywin nor Cersei nor Stannis would ever think of attacking her on the way back. But she also knew that some Lannister soldier could see their caravan and get over patriotic.

The tent she was given was suitable but Renly seemed to be avoiding her. When she arrived it was late and Renly sent a boy to direct her and her entourage to a tent near the centre of the camp. Her guards, however, had set up by themselves and already started flanking her whenever she moved. They were under Robb's orders, not hers, and Josephine was too tired to even think about arguing with them.

What was more amusing was they were loudly calling her 'princess' as if it made Robb's claim to the throne any more legitimate. They grabbed their swords when the servants would call her 'lady' and not from the title given by her brother.

"Princess," one of the guards called, trotting loudly into the room, "Lord Renly has called your presence. Well, he sent another long letter with all his titles to call your presence."

Josephine chuckled slightly and held her arm out the knight, "Thank you, is the whole troop going to walk me there or can I request just your presence?"

She could barely see the smile under his bear but he took her hands and placed them on his arm. He had to walk in short half strides to match her own and they merely followed the noise to a cheering crowd. Josephine and her knight pushed forward and she felt the man tense as he saw what was happening.

Two knights were sparring in a crudely built arena. Renly and, what Josephine presumed, his wife sat jovially clapping and cheering along. Renly's cheeks had splashed red with the shouting and wine. The crowd hardly looked like an army and were cursing and cheering along as the match went.

Something about watching two knights play fight for celebration rubbed Josephine the wrong way. She knew it was a stupid thought, that after the war tourneys would happen over again and she would probably be clapping and cheering like these spectators. But it felt dirty to watch if after so recently watching Robb come back from real battles with real blood on him from men who were no longer real anymore.

Josephine recognised Loras immediately. He wore no helmet and his face was distinct; he had a cut down his cheek, freshly made, and was losing the fight. He was playing too defensively and his handsome face was screwing up more and more as they went on. The other man was in full armour and was moving with expert skill. He was on the offensive. Not only having a height and weight advantage but using it to the fullest extent. Josephine was surprised and searched for some sort of banner or sigil. The man had clearly been trained professionally. He thought just like her brothers did in training - following every rule and step exactly.

It was almost pretty to watch. And that made her hate it more.

"Brienne the Beauty! Brienne the beauty!," the crowd screamed as the man knocked Loras to the ground.

"Brienne?" her guard enquired gruffly, "The beauty?"

Their questions were answered as the man pulled off his helmet and Josephine attempted to remain impassive. The man was actually a woman. Her hair was cropped short and framed her square face. She wasn't as ugly as the crowd were making her out to be. Her features were square and cordoned off with harsh angles. Her eyes were wooden and her brow was thick with sweat and dirt. When she bowed she still stood at an impressive height.

"I've had enough, do we need to watch theatrics?" he shifted in on his feet.

"The theatrics are part of war just as much as the battles are. We should appease Renly and Stannis as much as possible. Much rather them on the throne than Joffrey."

"I suppose, the quicker the Lannisters die out the better."

Josephine opened her mouth and felt the words vibrate up her throat but couldn't actually allow them to escape her. Her body reflex was to defend Jaime - as she had done dozens of times in meetings - but now it sounded like an odd thing to do. He was just a Lannister as Cersei or Joffrey.

"Josephine!" Renly called out across the small arena making his way out his chair, "The last time I saw you, it was your six and tenth name day and you were the belle of the ball!"

Josephine curtsied. She had deliberated in her head what was protocol when two supposed royals met even though neither of them had an actual throne. She argued in her head that Robb was more of a King than Renly. He had fought battles, he was recognised by all the subjects in the North. But he was still fighting.

"Renly," she smiled and met him halfway, "It is always a pleasure."

He grinned looking around him, how did he seem younger than her? One of his hands waved over to his wife, she was talking quietly to handmaidens. Gods, she was surrounded by Tyrells. Was Willas here?

"Pity you couldn't have come for the wedding."

She nearly stumbled over her words, "Well, the war and all."

His eyes continued to be bright as he laughed as if her excuse was a joke, "And it is going in your favour so far I see! It's brilliant to watch it all play out. But you forget I am controlling where the food comes from."

Josephine bit her tongue from a quick reply. He was boasting and acting as if he already won. She supposed she should have expected more from Renly. He was going for the throne after all. He had no reason to, he was youngest born, and he did not have a father or sisters to be killed and captured by the Lannisters. The only reason he was surviving was on charisma and his security in the Stormlands.

"The North is well stocked for a long winter already. The Lannisters and Crown have no qualms about simply buying money. And we all know Stannis has survived being starved out before. Don't overplay your advantage."

He laughed once more but Josephine remained cautious as Brienne and Loras both took a step forward as if she had threatened him. He did have loyal followers.

"He is King, you should show more respect," Brienne warned.

Renly rolled his eyes and waved a hand, "Don't worry, Brienne. Josephine is rightfully Princess. Though that title is becoming meaningless as everyone announces themselves, King."

Brienne frowned but pulled back. Josephine hadn't noticed her own guard had been gripping his sword just as tightly.

Renly, ever charming, held out a hand to Josephine still with the crystal smile. He looked like a King in the tales the bards sung and Josephine could see how people were swooning over him. He was smart to marry a Tyrell as that brought Willas into his hand. The only person that would sue for peace - with anyone - was the Starks. Sansa was still betrothed to Joffrey and Robb did not have the authority to break the betrothal even if he renounced Joffrey as his King. Bran and Rickon, she supposed, could marry Stannis' child as they were similar in age or perhaps Myrcella. Josephine could marry Willas or, if suggested, Tommen. It was a confusing spiral of marriages in her head and she could not think it all through. It felt like one of the assignments the maester would give in logical thinking.

She took the hand and allowed him to lead her closer to the cliff line as her lone guard and his several followed behind. The Stormlands were significantly warmed than even the Riverlands. The salt air was strong. Her mind went to the beach and cliffside she saw in her dream as a child. It was purely made up, she knew, but that magical place wasn't in the Stormlands.

"I have missed talking with someone who isn't looking to please me outright," Renly mused, string out into the sea.

"How terrible of a problem. And here I was worried about my brother dying."

He looked hard into the sea, as if he spotted something, "I may have to kill mine."

"Out of choice. Stannis is honourable and he'd allow you to step down. He would never punish you."

He chuckled but the life was sucked out of it, "You act so sure. You have never met the man."

She chewed her lip, "Renly, you know why I am here and it is not to reassure you about Stannis."

He sighed, "I am not willing to work with your brother just yet. I am sorry but that is the truth. However, you would be the only ally we would ever consider and I have no intention to ever meet you in battle."

"But you will not support Robb's claim?"

"No. Not yet. My support would not be well received just yet and I know you will not support my cause just yet."

"You are correct."

He laughed once more and squeezed her hands, "I want you to be aware that once I can support Robb I will call for you again. Willis is still not betrothed to anyone and is the heir to the Reach. I would hope we could sue for peace."

"That hope is a long time away," Josephine tried to speak passively, she could not mention Robb's plans for her.

"It is," he hummed slightly, "Come with me to see Stannis tomorrow. It would be your benefit."

"I suppose but that isn't why you are inviting me."

He smiled down at her, "Well, you are more than just beauty aren't you? Tomorrow, I'll call for you."

He let go of her hand and already began walking to his men - and woman - leaving her on the cliff's edge.

He turned, giving that practised smile once more, "Little Finger has wormed his way in here to meet you."

Her shoulders slumped, she could at least drop the amicable smile with Little Finger. He was a man her father detested and her mother rarely spoke about. She did not know why he had come to meet her in person as if he was anyone of importance. Okay, maybe she was being harsh, he could give information about her sisters.

When she walked back into her tent, Little Finger didn't notice her at first. He was intensely staring at a dress that had been hung up, fingering the sleeve. His lips were chewed up and his eyes void of anything as he pondered whatever daydream he was having. She noticed he was wearing much finer clothes than necessary. Maybe he did have a good proposal.

"My Lord," she called out and watched as he spun round to her.

His eyes quickly roamed her and she watched as the fell. He muttered something too quick for her to hear. It all happened in a millisecond before a smile was on his face and he was taking her hand to kiss.

"You look just how they sing about you," his voice held a tone of malice, "just like Lyanna. No touch of Cat."

She was almost thrown by his comment. Was he disappointed? Lyanna was well revered - at least while Robert was alive. She didn't believe Petyr even met Lyanna. She didn't like how he casually referred to her mother either.

"I've been told."

"Hmm," he looked around, "Sansa is doing well in the Capital. Flourishing, really."

Josephine crossed her arms, she truly doubted that. She didn't like the way his mouth lingered on Sansa's name.

"Sansa is a strong lady," Josephine watched her own words for any sign of weakness but there must have been some because his eyes gleamed.

"Tyrion sent me. He offers your father's bones," his hands waved casually over to an ornate chest that had been brought in.

Josephine lost it then. She rushed over to it and collapsed in front of the case. Her father. He was inside. She wanted to open it as if her father was actually inside and he could comfort her. But that was not true. She wondered if it would comfort her at all to see his bones. Would she recognise him in them? Or, worse, would it just look like a heap of bones she had no connection to? She felt bile rise in her throat.

Jaime then wandered into her mind, unwillingly. If she was back at her tent - her temporary home - she could run out and see him. She could see that they were winning this stupid war and that she wasn't the only one losing things. She could then hear him make some dumb joke or complain about the food. And then she could also pretend that it was all a silly game and they would go home soon.

But all she had now was a slimy mad resting a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to scream until her throat was raw.

"Thank you," she said evenly.

"I also wanted to talk about your mother-"

"You can leave now, my Lord. You have been a kind courier."

Josephine was glad when she had the chink of the guards enter into claustrophobic tent and Petyr leaving quickly. Without really thinking or telling her body to do so, she grabbed the furs and pillows from the small bed and laid them next to the chest. She curled her body around it like her father did to her when young. She hugged the hard box as if it was her father and when she closed her eyes she could almost smell him. When she squinted her eyes through tears she could almost see his hair colour in the boxes wood.

She would leave as soon as the meeting with Stannis is over. She could not care about the war anymore. She wanted her brothers. She wanted her sisters. She wanted her mother and father. And she wanted this all to be over. She cried as if she was a child again that night but felt her heart slowly grow stiffer and stiffer over every lost tear.

The morning felt monotonous. Her body was dutifully working for her but she remained silent and away from her surroundings. She barely spoke to Stannis and the man did not seem to care for her presence anyway. Part of her was seething and boiling over but another part was cold and desolate.

She felt her body and mind snap back in place when she was in Renly's tent. He was red in the face.

"Can you believe him? He is part of a…. Part of a cult! He is a madman! You cannot tell me your brother would rather ally with a madman!" He whipped around to her.

"N-no, he wouldn't. But you don't pray to our Gods either."

He raised his hands and Brienne stepped forward again as if preparing to slice Josephine in half.

"There is a difference! They burn the Old Gods too!"

"You chopped down the weirwood trees."

Again his hands flew over the place as he spoke, "This isn't the time for a history lesson! You cannot say you believe he would not kill me now!"

"It is a war! What do you expect?" Josephine finally spat out.

"You should be more courteous to your King, my Lady," Brienne replied stiffly.

Josephine felt the heat build up in her once more, "I have bent the knee to no one neither has my brother. Renly, I plead you to either lay down your swords or offer something I can bring back to my brother. Baratheons and Starks have always been allies. We have the soldiers and expertise in battle and you have the Reach and the Stormlands. It would be strategic."

His face ballooned slightly before he turned back to the mirror. He was now more of a King than she originally thought. But his plan had always seemed to be to wait out the whole war as everyone else thought each other.

"Josie," he rubbed his forehead, "To agree I would have to talk to my advisors. You would have to offer more than swords."

"We would offer marriage and alliance, Renly. I can marry Willis. Either Robb's son or Rickon could marry your first born daughter or the other way around. Robert always intended to cement our alliance together and no one would have qualms about joining forces."

He chewed his lips, "It seems brash to marry off people not even born yet."

Josephine flashed a smile, "That's how it works in wartime."

He turned and that damn amicably smile was on his face. She was ready to fight over her points again.

But then the air turned to chill as if a gust of Northern air had found its way all the way down south to prod at her. But everyone else felt it as well. Brienne pulled out her sword and took steps towards the doorway, next to Josephine. Her eyes were focused.

Josephine didn't have time to call her to guard in. The motions happened slowly. At first, it was nothing more than a thick black fog, it was nothing tangible. It snaked around her ankles. Renly was still smiling at her as whatever it was manifested itself behind him. She could see it's crown, it faces. Stannis was looking through her. But it wasn't Stannis, it was swirling around the sides and not keeping an exact form. It was also grinning. Not at her, the… the thing didn't have eyes. But it was smiling.

"RENLY!" She screamed reaching forward.

She didn't see a knife. She didn't know how the thing could even hold a knife. But soon blood was staining Renly's chest. The Crimson was spreading quickly, far more quickly than she thought it would. He frowned, looking down at whatever hurt him. He didn't even seem to be in pain.

Then, to make up for the slow motion, time sped up. She felt someone grab her by the shoulders. She heard people shouting. She remembered grabbing Brienne's hands and saying something. Never in her life had she felt such intense panic. Such an intense need to leave immediately. Somewhen on her way to her tent she puked.

Soon she was in a carriage and all her guards had their weapons drawn. They didn't know what happened. Maybe they thought she had killed Renly. She had puked again when the horses set off. This time she had felt it coming and manage to stop the carriage in time. Soon a guard was brushing her matted hair back and looking at her like a child. He was speaking slowly as he dropped milk of the poppy down her throat. She tried speaking to him.

But his face kept changing.

Her father was smiling down at her. His face was lighter than the sun and rays of light were stemming out from around him. He didn't have wrinkles and looked younger than she had ever seen him. He cooed at her as if she was a babe.

"Josephine," he sang the words out like a lullaby, "Josie. My little Josie."

She tried to speak back. To tell him everything. But he was gone in an instant replaced with Robb. Robb's face was hard and he was frowning at her. His eyes were furious.

"I am your King! Say it, Josie, say it! Bend your knee."

She tried to reach out but something held her hands down. Why was he doing this? She wanted to apologise but his anger soon fled as Sansa appeared.

"Why didn't you come with me?" her voice sounded far away, "I asked you. Why couldn't you come?"

It was already gone before the last words left her lips, Arya started down impassively.

"You don't care," he voice was the clearest, "You don't care at all. All you care about is yourself."

Then Jaime's face appeared. He didn't say anything at all just looked down on her with pity in his eyes and a hint of something else. A wave of calmness spread through her. She tried to speak since his face wasn't disappearing but still was not able to. Her breathing calmed down within seconds and she allowed her eyes to rest. But his face didn't go away and that partly comforted her. She could pretend with Jaime.

As predicted, Jaime had not received a meal since Josephine left. He had seen her little munchkins arrive and enquire the guards about his schedule but had believed their lies. They scattered as soon as he looked over at them. He didn't care too much.

The damn mutt she had left behind was bothering him more. It never seemed to leave him. He knew it must because sometimes he would wake up and its mouth would be dirtied with blood. He thought back to an old wives tale about Direwolves being connected to their owners and tried to see if Josephine was in the mutt. If she was she was doing a good job at annoying him.

With the direwolf, the guards steered clear of him and so did everyone else so he supposed he would have something to be glad over. He was bored out of his mind. He had wanted to torment Josephine about her visit but she had left soon after so instead he found himself brooding over the small details. That wasn't what he wanted to do.

His mind raced over the way she had walked up to him, all swaying and clearly drunk. How she had sat right next to him as if they were friends. He tortured himself over the fact he didn't kill her. He could have. The rope between his hands could have tied around her throat. But when he began looking at her throat all he could see was her drumming pulse and his thoughts fled elsewhere.

Jaime told himself that this was merely the result of solitude. It had been nearly two months. It was a convincing story to tell anyone if they ever discovered his thoughts.

It was late afternoon when he noticed Josephine's minions rush around extraordinary often. They were practically diving from tent to tent and running about. They were sharply ordering chambermaids and low soldiers as if they were Josephine herself. It wasn't until they left he heard the gossip.

Renly was dead. Josephine was on her way back, expected hours into nightfall as they were riding nonstop. She had visited Renly.

That was the better option he had run over in his head. Stannis would be nothing but cold and had some sort of witch with him. Cersei and Joffrey? A part of him wondered if Cersei would see through Josephine all the way to Jaime and his thoughts. Cersei could kill her on sight. Tywin or Tyrion would be next best. They would be amicable. Tyrion would be welcoming and Tywin would be willing to talk. He hated that he had spent days thinking about this.

But Renly had died. Who killed him? One plump woman was already spreading the detailed tale that Josephine had done so herself. Jaime had wanted to shout something at her but a soldier had scolded her quickly. If that drunken talk was anything to indicate she was not the type to kill.

By dusk, another wave of gossip came through the camp. Mother Stark was here. The common folk speculated this being connected and Jaime, once more, had to stop himself from barking at them. He assured himself he would only correct them so they would stop being dumb not that he was defending Josephine or her dreadful mother.

He stayed awake that night. He wasn't tired he told himself. He heard the caravan of horses and the crowds that surged forward somewhere to the east of himself. Josephine's tent was within eyesight now he was on the small incline.

She was alive. He didn't know why he had to keep telling himself that. But she was alive. He knew she had to be.

If she wasn't he was sure the boy would lob his head off quickly.

Then he saw her. She was a petite body wrapped around her brother. It was only for a few seconds but he could see the bundle of mud-stained hair around the steel breastplate. He could, even from this far, see her shaking softly in his arms. Likely from sobbing.

He felt his blood go hot. He wanted to run over there and yell at her. To shake some sense into her. Tell her everything she had clearly forgotten when she was all wine-stained and beer soaked. He wanted to grip her shoulders and tell her she can be strong she has it in her. He wanted to push away her tears and tell her she isn't going to cry anymore.

Jaime hardly noticed that his wrists had scratched open and blood was staining the rope slightly. He remained, sated, tied up to a tree. He would have to wait.


	6. Chapter 6

Jaime waited two days before he saw her leave her tent. Each day he watched her brother and her mother enter the tent for hours before they left again. Part of him was annoyed that they didn't stay longer. They were ungrateful. On the third day, he saw her leave. She looked as powerful as the first day he saw her. She was wrapped up in a honey coloured dress she had worn before and her chin was raised high. At first, she didn't move at all and he watched her calm her shaking hands. He was proud.

She first walked over to him. He smirked, sitting up straight.

"I've missed you," he called out as she came closer and was glad when a sarcastic smile went over her face.

"That is because they haven't fed you," she frowned, "Winter, Home!"

He watched as the dog slinked off, stopping only to rub itself against Josephine's leg. Maybe the mongrel wasn't so bad? She stood close to Jaime, as close as she could while still on the lower ground near the ledge. She rubbed her elbows.

"Your dog was good at keeping people away."

She rolled her eyes, "It's a direwolf."

"Whatever," he paused, "I've seen your mother."

Josephine merely raised an eyebrow, "And why is that interesting?"

He shrugged, "She had got some knight trailing after her like a lost puppy. I'd be worried."

Josephine laughed and Jaime's chest puffed out, "That knight is a woman. And not technically a knight, anymore."

He frowned, "Huh, I suppose I've seen weird things."

"Is it so weird to see a woman with a sword? She is very capable."

"Not as capable as me."

"No? I watched her beat Loras Tyrell and if I remember he beat you?"

"I let him win."

She giggled once more, "Sure."

A comfortable silence fell over them. Jaime brashly studied her and she did the same. He wanted to ask about Renly but didn't want her demeanour to change for the worst. She had just come out of her tent; he didn't want to send her back. It was because he was bored of solitude - he assured himself.

"Anything else to interrogate me over? I'm still your prisoner."

"I just got back," she rolled her eyes, "I'm just checking you aren't dead."

"You could just say that you missed me."

"I actually do have news," she bit her nail, looking away, "Renly has died."

The words didn't appear immediately which was unusual for him so he started the sentence unsure of what he really meant, "I… I heard. Some fat woman was talking about it."

That seemed to work as she laughed once more, "Well, I thought I should have said. You are heir to Casterly Rock, politics should be to the utmost importance to you, right?"

"I'm not the heir."

She shrugged, "Your father acts differently."

Jaime looked away, "Do we need to talk about my father?"

"Want to hear about other news?"

"Are you a town crier?"

"I could leave you alone and send Winter here instead?"

"I didn't say no."

"My grandfather's health has taken a turn," her voice was impassive, "that is why my mother is here."

"Thanks for piecing that all together, darling," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "Were you close?"

"I've never met him," she admitted, "He wouldn't recognise me. I don't look anything like my mother at all."

"That's a good thing."

Again she laughed, he was doing well, "That doesn't sound like a compliment," she paused looking around, "I'll be back with your dinner tonight. I hear there is another prisoner."

"Some other person you'll be spending more time with?"

She laughed while walking away and Jaime watch silently. He felt the best he had felt since he had arrived. He could still hear Cersei voice. Reminding him that next time she comes close he should kill her, that he should use her to escape. That she was nothing but a Stark. That she was manipulating him, that everything was an act. He felt sick.

Josephine had busied herself rather quickly since returning and leaving her tent. She had ignored Brienne as the woman would question her about what had happened with Renly as if she knew anything. Her mother seemed to have taken in the woman. She had taken to eating with her brother every night, falling asleep while he was still in the room. He had taken the chest before she had a chance to see it again and she was grateful.  
But soon she began hearing the rumours fly once more. Some accused Brienne. Saying she was in love or crazed or a myriad of reasons. Some believe she had done it. Either to avenge her brother or, more popular, to betray Willas Tyrell. She has rolled her eyes at the thought but kept clear of the bards for now. Robb had sent a bard to her the night before and she almost felt normal.

He hadn't asked her exactly what happened merely accepting the report she had written. It was lengthy and devoid of emotion as she supposed the maester might want it to record the murder of Renly. Her mother had been informed in more dramatics by Brienne as to only ensure her innocence and had such not touched on the topic. She felt pathetic over her reaction. Robb had seen many men die, he had killed them himself! And here she was broken over Renly's death! He was practically the enemy!

She had taken over her duties almost immediately but Robb had restricted her from meetings. She presumed this was because they were discussing Renly. But she had enough of being pushed aside, she had hard enough time getting over the snide comments about being a lady at a war table.

She walked through the out edge of the camp, attempting to find Robb. She had asked the guards outside his tent who shifted around before answering her. He was walking with someone. Not anyone they knew. Someone who had come from the latest battleground.

She walked through the maze the tents made and up the steep hill on the western corner of the camp. The air was warmer than usual and she felt some sweat trickle down her back. She could spot another set of guards but no Robb.

She rushed over and the men met her halfway which only made her more suspicious.

"Princess," both bowed but said no more.

"Is the King around here, I was sent this way?"

"Yes, but he asked to not be disturbed."

"Oh, how long is he going to be predisposed?"

They shifted and looked at each other, "We couldn't guess, my Princess."

"Could you inform him I called, also we are meeting at the war table this evening."

"Of course," they bowed again, lower than before and started to move back to their original position seemingly in the middle of a field.

She walked off, now slower in the tent. This time she took her time to listen in. Listen to the soldiers that had arrived back. And it soon became obvious. Her fists were shaking. Her face was red. Her vision was nearly blurry when she walked past her tent and onwards.

"How did your father react when you gave up your titles?"

Jaime was taken back, "Is this a new interrogation technique? Because, darling, it's a weird one?"

"Just answer."

"You've already asked this."

"When?"

Jaime chuckled and shook his head, Josephine looked completely distraught. Her arms kept moving position every few seconds. She would cross them, then ball them in fists, then let them lose, then hold up, then the other, and then cycle it across again. Her face was flushed but the rest was deathly pale. She still hadn't tanned and something made Jaime appreciate that. It was another difference between her and Cersei.

"If you don't remember I would like to keep it a secret. Play it to my advantage."

"You are the prisoner here, how will you ever have the advantage."

He shrugged but didn't say anything. He nearly found some perverse joy in seeing her so distraught. One part of his brain told him it was because she was a Stark and this was in his plan of leaving. Another part told him it was because she was Josephine and he was happy despite, or perhaps because, of her pain, she had ended up in front of him.

"You are infuriating," she muttered, and he watched as she eyed up her tent as if wondering if she should leave.

"The Kingsguard is an honourable position sought after by any decent man in the kingdom," his voice was dripping with sarcasm but it must not have translated well to Josephine because she looked happy with his answer.

"Is it normal to send the guard out onto the battlefield?"  
Jamie shrugged, "In times of war, select members may leave. They are still defending their King."

"Like Arthur Dayne?"

Jamie bristled at the name. Dayne had been his mentor. The man he had looked up to in wonder his whole life. When staring at the Mad King, no older than Josephine, all Jamie could think was what Arthur Dayne would do. And he thought about that until he met the man who killed him, Eddard Stark.

He coughed himself out of whatever daydream was threatening to converge on his mind, "Do you not have history books in the North?"

She rolled her eyes but then settled them on Jamie, having decided not to leave. He was especially talkative today. She needed to know some information and soon.

"Do you think Renly would have ended this war?"

"Against you or us?"

She shrugged, "Everyone."

"Renly, I suppose, would only be smart to ally with you or perhaps Dorne if they cared. And both you would have only been good teaming up with Renly. Stannis will bend to no one, his only offer to you, I predict, would be bending the knee and he won't kill you."

"And the Lannisters?"

He paused for a moment. Cersei, Joffrey Tywin, and Tyrion weren't the most unified force here. They weren't always going to be working together. In fact, he bet Cersei would be working against Tyrion's efforts right this second even if it hurt herself. But he looked up at her wide eyes, and all that left his lips were a sigh.  
"For the Lannisters to end this war, you're elder brother would face exile or the Wall. Sansa's marriage would likely be changed to Tommen. The little ones would have the best chance of life returning to how it was before. Your family would not be Warden of the North anymore. Or if you were all the males in your family would have to be exiled so Sansa and Tommen could look after the North, I suppose."

"You're missing me out of this thought."

He hid the wince the best he could, "You are front and centre with negotiations. Some people would want you to suffer the same fate as your brother, whatever that would be," Jamie knew who would be calling the loudest for her death and it made his bones feel cold at the thought, "Or maybe Tywin will marry you with Tommen or Tyrion."

She chewed her lip. Jamie tried not to be sucked into staring but was already before he had the idea not to. This was an interrogation, he heard Cersei voice in his head, she was faking. But his eyes still didn't leave her lips.

"I was considering moving you to a proper jail cell in the Riverlands if Edmund joins our cause formally."

"Some stone walls, maybe a bed," he mused, "it would be a life of luxury."

A small quirk of her lips and Cersei's voice finally vanished from his head. He didn't like forgetting his twin's voice. He didn't mean to not want to hear it. She was smarter than him, so everyone said, he should be listening to her advice. But he didn't want to.

"But, one Lannister has already managed to worm his way out of my family's cells, so Robb insists you stay out here."

He smirked, "I already had a plan of escape but, alas," he sighed dramatically, "it will have to wait for another day."

"I'm well aware you are constantly drawing up plans of escape," she was smiling a bit more visible, "Karstark wanted you to be kept next to the horses, you know, in their muck."

"In their shit."

She gave a short laugh, "Yes, but I told them that would only mean you would be a step closer to stealing a horse. And that I would have to smell that."

"You wouldn't be able to handle the smell for the pleasure of my company?"

"Maybe if you're company was better I would."

"You enjoyed it at the feast," Jamie said the words before he could worry about the effect it would have on her.

Again, he cursed Robb for dragging her down this far South, forever putting her in charge of dealing with himself, and for everything he had done to cause the war. Jamie wouldn't have thought about Josephine this much otherwise.

But she didn't get glassy-eyed as he expected. She didn't laminate on past times. Maybe she did remember that talk before she left?

"Tyrion was much more enjoyable than you."

"He didn't dance with you as I did."

"You didn't dance very well though."

Again that little laugh left her mouth. He knew that was genuine. He didn't care what anybody said. He knew that the laugh right that moment was genuine. And maybe it was too genuine for her because she closed her mouth tighter than usual and looked away from him again.

"Tyrion has asked for a letter in your hand. It will be read by me before I seal it. But I can ensure it will only be read by me and no one else in this camp."

"I suppose I can't say anything I want in this letter?"

"No, I'm afraid not. He just wishes to ensure your health. And I wish to ensure my sisters' healths in their own hand as well."

"Then I'll write a shining report of the pole I am tied to."

"Please do, I'll have someone give you some writing materials soon."

She made to walk away but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't had much time to speak to her before she left to visit Renly. And it had been nagging at him for those short days she was away. He told himself it was so he could sneak the information into the letter to his brother.

"Is the Greyjoy boy still your husband to be?"

She spun around and frowned hard. Screwing her face up in the way he liked to admire.

"What did you say?"

"Greyjoy."

"I heard you," she snapped again, "where did you hear that?"

He had heard it from her. He shrugged instead.

She rubbed the creases in her forehead, "You shouldn't listen to rumours, Ser."

"I don't." He felt oddly annoyed she had called him 'Ser'. It wasn't like she purred his name in his ear after every sentence but it annoyed him none of the less.

"Then don't ask such questions."

"That isn't an answer."

"Yes it is," she snapped quickly, walking away once more. He was left feeling happy despite the conflict. When they had last spoken about the boy she had been slurring her words and her mind went everywhere. She spoke about duty - a word he detested - and then spoke about love - another subject that felt foreign to speak about to him. But now it seemed more cemented in his mind, she did not want to marry the Greyjoy boy, and seeing the fury in her eyes would attempt to not.

He wouldn't tell her, but he truly thought it would be best for her not to. Whomever the younger Starks were promised to would not matter to Tywin. They had no choice in their fate. But if Robb or Josephine were deciding in their own alliances and marriages Tywin would not be convinced to spare them.

Who would try to convince him? Cersei wouldn't. Tyrion, perhaps. He didn't think where he would stand on the conversation. He knew it would happen though. He knew whatever thoughts of concern or on any other subject towards Josephine would come to nought when the Starks lost.

And once more than the day, he cursed the Stark boy.


End file.
